


right through your noble intentions

by eyesonfire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Freeform, M/M, One Direction Break Up, Peter Pan - Freeform, Unresolved Angst, if youre at all familiar with peter pan youll recognise quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:02:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesonfire/pseuds/eyesonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they do more shows and they sing more songs and they smile and jump and laugh and they all pretend like they can’t feel the flame of one direction burning out. </p><p>(the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	right through your noble intentions

**Author's Note:**

> all words in brackets are direct quotes from the amazing J.M. Barrie's "Peter Pan", including the title.

 

 

(who are you?)

 

(i’m a little bird that has broken out of the egg)

 

~

 

they're five boys and they shouldn’t make it, but they do. they shouldn’t make it on the show, but they somehow do, and then impossibly, they make it in the real world and it has them all asking if this is real life. it  _is_  real life and it seems like a dream and it’s too good to be true, always too good to be true.

 

 

(you can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it)

 

~

 

they do a tv show and Harry chokes and nothing any of them do can bring him back from himself and louis feels useless and when he kisses him it’s like kissing a stranger.

but then harry's back and they're singing more and then they're recording an album and touring the country.

louis makes harry promise not to go away like that again and harry thinks that he can’t promise anything but he says the words anyway, slippery in his mouth.

 

(just always be waiting for me)

 

~

 

the country turns into the continent and the continent turns into america and then that turns into the world and they wonder where they go from here, standing on top of the globe and looking down because there's nowhere left up to go.

there's a break and then they're back touring and back singing and it’s their job, their world and their world has more than a few cracks in the shiny surface.

 

(can anything harm us after the nightlights are lit?)

 

~

 

they can’t be completely themselves and yet they're no one but themselves. harry and louis barely exist anymore but that’s only because  _harryandlouis_  exists and neither of them need any more. but  _harryandlouis_  is a bad thing here and they have to hide it and lie and pretend they're okay with it.

and they start keeping secrets from each other, like how niall wishes for company that isn’t the four others sometimes and how liam sometimes wonders if he could have made it by himself and how zayn just thinks of liam.

secrets rot away at the ropes that tie them together and they're threatened and criticised but they have been like this since day one and nothing’s changing.

 

(their ignorance gave them one more glad hour)

 

~

 

 _harryandlouis_  aren’t careful enough and they get hauled in for a reaming out by management and its threats and waving contracts and angry words and they mutter consent sullenly and go home to a house that should be full of warmth but is cold with fear and lies.

but things are okay, things can be okay, even when management puts the fear of god into them and zayn lies awake and wonders how his life came to this and niall wishes he didn’t think about leaving and liam just wants to know things.

 

(sooner or later, people have to grow up)

 

~

 

“they're scary smart,” he murmurs to harry late at night, looking at the grainy photos and blurry gifs and interview quotes that somehow make up the wording of their ruin.

harry agrees, half in awe and half in fear and kisses louis’ neck. the computer is forgotten, left lighting the dark room with the dull glow of an internet page with too many exclamation points and too many teenage tears and too much ‘proof’ for it all to be laughed away and louis curls in close to the warmth of harry's long body.

they say nothing more of it, they both ignore how  _much_  this is getting and how  _big_  this is getting and the both pretend they can’t see The End hurtling towards them at a startling speed.

 

(i'll teach you to jump on the wind's back, and away we go)

 

~

 

they're followed by suspicious eyes and hungry cameras and warning glares and there might as well be two separate cages, holding them in, holding them apart.

 

(will you ever come back?)

 

~

 

there's more photos after more shows, vague, bright red circles on paint outlining an erection or a hand gesture or a tattoo that halfway resembles one the other has and sometimes they're way off and sometimes they hit the target, splattering bright red paint circles over tabloids and contracts and highlighted sections like  _must not engage in inappropriate relations with other band members_ and  _understands the necessity of retaining an appealing image to a young, broad base of fans_  and harry wants to laugh with it all. he sometimes wants to fuck it all, to tell management to take their contracts and go to hell and take louis’ hand and drag him down a  burning cobblestoned path but he never does because what does he know, in the end.

 

 

(never say good-bye because saying good-bye means going away and going away means forgetting)

 

~

 

zayn misses a meeting, and then misses a show and their excuses of a  _family emergency_  sound flat and fake to their own ears and their tongues feel stiff and unsure in their own mouths, forming someone else’s words.

(if you shut your eyes and are a lucky one)

~

they drag zayn in for a meeting, the suits, and their words are laced with concern and worry and understanding and it’s all lies and drips like poison off their tongues.

“we’re worried about you,” they say and they mean ‘ _we’re worried about the money you're losing us’_ and _‘don’t you dare do this again’_ and _‘you're lucky we need you – for now,’_  and the room is full of thinly veiled threats that cling to their faces like cobwebs. zayn says nothing and he just looks at his lap and somehow his silence sounds a lot like “liam.”

 

(i don’t believe in fairies)

 

~

 

then its niall, who spends one night out and ends up never allowed out unsupervised again and leaves a path of destruction as wide as London behind him and management has to clean up the mess and smile genially through the news statements.

“we fear this could turn into a habit,” they say and they mean ‘ _you're irish but you're also niall horan,’_ and  _‘this isn’t going to become a habit because we won’t let it’_  and  _‘don’t think that any one of you is more important than the band’_  and the room is swarmed with highlighted and circled excerpts from black ink on plain paper that five teenage boys had signed their life away on.

‘ _realises that certain expectations must be met’ and ‘appropriate behaviour at all times’ and ‘no sexual relations with unknown members of the public’_  and they suddenly seem like more than words and more than promises because they suddenly seem like silky traps.

 

(a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago)

 

~

 

and then its liam and management never saw it coming and harry thinks that maybe liam's pain was worth it just to see the look on the bland faces of bland, suit-wearing people when they're told that liam payne has shaved his head and gotten tattoos and harry wonders if their rigid world view tilts a little bit.

“you understand that you are expected to behave in certain ways,” they say and for once they mean exactly what they said except it’s a threat and its coupled with ‘ _you have roles to play and we expect you to play them’_  and  _‘we have a plan in place and if you do not conform we will make you,’_  and liam payne hangs his head and apologies burn his throat on the way up.

 

 

(we can still hear the sound of the surf)

 

~

 

there is a phone call, and the world seems a little bit darker when liam hangs up the phone after murmurs of “i see” and “i agree” and “i know it’s hard but-“ and “if that’s what you want” and says “she’s gone” in a voice that cracks like ice in the spring before he breaks and all the platitudes in the world can’t band aid a broken heart.

 

(the place where you can still remember dreaming)

 

~

 

there are words after it, but they are broken and shattered and don’t make sense and liam is a lot like the words he can’t quite force out of his mouth because something’s broken in him and it makes him a little less him and a little more someone management doesn’t like.

zayn cries with him and begs to know how to make it better, how to make it hurt less and liam doesn’t have the answers for him. zayn holds him and holds him until his arms are burning with everything he can never have.

 

(if you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing)

 

~

 

months crawl past like slow, thirty-legged spiders and they cause goose bumps to pimple harry's skin as they drag over him, each day prickling into him and driving him a little bit more insane. but louis’ there and even if the concerts have been long and back to back and the fans have been loud and demanding and obnoxious and even if the distance between  _here_  and home feels like many more miles than the ocean that’s actually between them, louis’ arms settle him a little and he feels like maybe this could be home.

 

(none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind)

 

~

 

but then zayn turns up to a show drunk and liam doesn’t act like liam so its left to louis to take charge because niall and harry are still scared little kids and louis has no clue what he's doing and it’s like a straw too many on an overworked camels’ back and they fold to their knees.

liam barely sings his lines and zayn can barely stand up straight and niall looks like he's about to burst into tears and louis is so anxious he doesn’t even have a smile to spare for harry when he looks at the older boy, desperate for reassurance and he's suddenly frustrated because this isn’t him, he isn’t meant to be in charge and he shouldn’t have to coddle his boyfriend to get him to fucking sing at a show.

they refund the show tickets when it gets cut halfway through and for the first time in memory there are boos as they leave the stage. liam doesn’t hear them, retreated into his sad, lonely world of heartbreak and misery and zayn is too busy clinging onto niall and sanity and his hopeless feelings to listen to the crowd and niall is too busy holding onto zayn like a life raft to notice but harry and louis hear and it’s a cold bucket of water over the head.

“louis,” harry says and his voice shakes and his fingers try to close around louis’ wrist but louis is abruptly furious at everyone and everything and he shakes harry off and leaves him standing alone backstage, boos ringing in his ears.

 

(all children, except one, grow up)

 

~

 

“i’m sorry,” louis says later as he climbs into their hotel bed, nose and fingers cold from the air outside and harry doesn’t say anything but he sighs and rolls closer and curls an arm around louis and louis knows he's forgiven, at least for now. because this is what they do; they find cracks and they fix them and each fix might be a little more temporary than the last but they can pretend it away and if they ignore something hard enough then it’s not really real.

 

(if only we wish hard enough)

 

~

 

it’s more often now though, when harry comes home drunk and lipstick smeared and smelling of cheap perfume that’s fruity and slutty and girly and he tells louis he's sorry even as he wishes loving louis was as easy as loving the girls that crowd him in pubs.

it’s when louis comes home from dates with eleanor smiling and harry hates her a little bit harder and a little bit more unfairly and they somehow end up sleeping on different mattresses.

but they always find their way back and that’s what makes them  _harryandlouis_ ; not because they don’t fight but because when they do, it’s never too dark to lose the light of each other. and sometimes the path is a few steps and sometimes it’s a mountain but they climb it because that’s what they do. they fight and explode and sulk and crawl back to each other and fuck the angry out of each other and then everything’s perfect and everything’s  _harryandlouis_ again.

 

 

(dreams do come true)

 

~

 

niall worries about them because it can’t be healthy, but then niall worries about liam because he's still not okay, he's still not mended and he worries about zayn because he's not okay either and he thinks that maybe he’ll let louis and harry worry about  _louisandharry_ and he’ll worry about the other two who can’t worry for themselves.

 

(just look on forever)

 

~

 

they do more shows and they sing more songs and they smile and jump and laugh and they all pretend like they can’t feel the flame of one direction burning out.

 

 

(the moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it)

 

~

 

it’s nothing, really, that sets of the worst sparks they’ve ever had. nothing. harry can’t even remember what started it but he remembers how it ended; with screaming and angry words and slamming doors and furious poundings of fists against helpless walls. it burns itself into his brain and the words they screamed at each other burrow deep into his chest somewhere and take root and he feels them sliding sickly around in his blood.

 

(boy, why are you crying?)

 

~

 

but louis comes back, because louis always comes back and he says sorry, because he's always sorry.

“this isn’t how it ends,” louis promises him, all whiskey breath and cigarette smoke hair. “this isn’t where we end,”

and harry agrees silently because he’ll always agree with louis and he kisses him and when they fuck it’s his pact that no, not here, not now. this isn’t how they end.

 

(but we are rather lonely)

 

~

 

the shows run on and the days drag by and nights flash past in a symphony of bright lights and famous faces and crying fans and maybe everything’s alright.

 

(with astonishing splashes of colour here and there)

 

~

 

but then niall passes out on stage and zayn vomits in a back alleyway and liam cries during an interview and  _harryandlouis_  sit too close to each other and are a little too careless and things get bad again. there are more rumours about them and there are stories on news outlets and someone, somehow snaps a picture of them holding hands while walking home, late one night and management acts like it’s worse than the fact zayn is slowly replacing his blood with alcohol.

“you appreciate the need for discretion, of course,” they say and its more threats and they don’t even bother to cover them now. because the illusion is shattered and the reality is bright and glaring at them and management can feel the hatred simmering off their weary bones as they sit in sterile chairs in plush offices.

 

(never is an awfully long time)

 

~

 

the media are rabid now, because everyone likes to tear celebrities down to feel a little better about their own mediocre lives. they pore over pictures of the boys facing their ruin and they smile and tell everyone that they knew it from the start and it’s self-righteous smiles.

 

(all of this has happened before, and it will all happen again)

 

~

 

and then its madison square garden and its everything they’ve ever wanted and maybe this can be alright again. and things are good, things are okay again and for a shining moment they think they can pretend they're not freefalling to fading tattoos and fading memories.

 

danielle comes to new york and liam lights up like a fucking firework, like the whole of times square all at once and niall thinks that maybe he’ll be okay and pretends not to notice zayn noticing how happy liam is and curling in on himself.

and perries there and zayn looks like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders and they spend what little hours they have alone curled in dark corners talking seriously and maybe they’ll be okay too.

and there's no one here for niall but that’s okay, because he doesn’t need anyone, as long as he has his boys and his job and he pretends like this job is anywhere close to filling him up inside.

 

(they no longer believed)

 

~

 

eleanor is flown in too though, and suddenly everything is bad again, worse. because then they find out danielle isn’t here for liam, she’s here because management told her to come.

and liam is fucking crushed and its sick that management play these twisted games to wring a little more money out of their young girl wells and they act like they don’t know the sources are nearly all dried up.

perrie and zayn talk and talk but somehow it’s not enough to make them okay because zayn spends more time looking at Liam with sad dark eyes than looking at her and perrie storms out and zayn storms the other way and perrie comes back with a fake, too-forced smile and a t-shirt saying her boyfriend is in one direction and he gets to take her home and spends the night flinching whenever zayn touches her.

and eleanor, eleanor turns  _harryandlouis_  into harry and louis even by being in the same room and she’s wearing the same t shirt as perrie and harry wants to claw it off her with his own hands.

and louis acts entirely too well and smiles entirely to real and laughs much too loud and kisses eleanor loud and long and suddenly harry doesn’t think that this isn’t how they end and wonders how many band aids and how much duct tape can hold two people together when everything else is pulling them apart.

 

(two is the beginning of the end)

 

~

 

madison square garden is played and everyone pretends they don’t see how they can barely stand to touch each other during the show.

“i’m in love with you,” he sings and he looks across the stage at louis because that’s what he's always done. “and all these little things,” and for the first time he can remember he wonders if he can handle these little things or if the little things have piled too high and he can’t breathe in them. because eleanor was a little thing at first. hiding their relationship was a little thing at first. signing their lives away on a black dotted line seemed like a little thing at first and maybe there are too many little things now.

 

(you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars)

 

~

 

the fire of  _harryandlouis_  has always burned brighter than the flame of one direction and liam is slightly not at all surprised when it ends in a fireball, an explosion louder and brighter than any supernova and the wake leaving more darkness than could be held by the entire universe.

niall supposes that makes tears stars then, and thinks that harry and louis could fill a solar system and that even an entire milky way wouldn’t shine as bright as they used to and that maybe this can’t be fixed anymore. 

 

(second star to the right and straight on til’ morning)

 

~

 

there's words, after, from both harry and louis but none of them are the words niall wants to hear. there is a lot of ‘i can’ts’ and ‘it hurts’ and ‘i’m sorrys’ but neither can tell him why or how to help and in the end he leaves them alone to their dark rooms and tears that glitter like stars.

even after they still love each other so much niall wonders if it hurts. he's never been in love, so in love he's sick with it, so in love he spends more time screaming and yelling because the passion overflows as there's only so much one person can love. he's never been in love like harry and louis love each other and watching them cry because they can't find their way back to the other this time makes him glad.

“this is where it ends,” harry tells liam after, voice dry from crying and eyes red from rubbing and a heart that seems too heavy for him to hold.

 

 

(to listen to the stories)

 

~

 

there's words from management too and they seem to have changed their minds and they think that  _harryandlouis_  was better than harry and louis after all and harry's voice is hoarse for a week after with how long and loud and hard he screamed at the crisply dressed representative because  _it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t goddamn fair._ and niall agrees,  _damn_ , he agrees because they fought so hard and so long and burnt out and crashed down in flames and management has no fucking right to ask this of them now. just like with liam and danielle and zayn and perrie and he wonders if there is a facet of their lives they haven’t tainted with their poisonous grip.

 

(he held out his hand expectantly)

 

~

 

but then management stops talking to them and the demands stop and they can’t understand why. it’s niall that figures it out and it’s niall that refuses to let the others pretend anymore. maybe the only reason he's alright it because he never had anything to lose and he swallows thickly because that shouldn’t be a good thing and yet somehow it is.

“it’s over,” he says and he's never said anything he didn’t mean, not to them.

they all say nothing because they know, it’s been coming for a long time and maybe they're all just a little bit relieved that its finished.

 

(an awfully big adventure)

 

~

 

The End, when it comes, finally, isn’t a big deal, it’s not screams and tears and fainting fans. it's not bright lights and final encores and a last, victory tour. it’s nothing that one direction ever was and perhaps it’s fitting that they go out realising they're not even that same band anymore.

 

they've been fading out for months now, slipping away and no one wanted to say anything but they could all feel it and they all smiled and laughed and pretended everything was fine and they all knew that it wasn't. perhaps they'd been fading since the start, a countdown over their heads, a ticking just out of sight.

 

no one said the words, but it lingered in their eyes, sat heavy on their shoulders, their slightly too-loud laughs that were forced on for sligjtly too long. they all saw it coming, and they all thought they maybe should be a little bit more upset.

 

(you won’t forget me, will you?)

 

~

 

it’s been four years, and it feels as though harry's lived a lifetime or two in those years. he feels old, weary, exhausted. he feels drained, like he's been running and running and running and only now can he stat to slow.

 

it's hollow, numb, cold and its anticlimactic and unromantic and boring and its everything harry thought the end of one direction wouldn't be and maybe everything it should.

 

(this belongs to you, and always will)

 

~

 

they're in a seedy pub, whiskey in front of them and the room is full of old men and cigar smoke. it curls in tendrils in front of them and even zayn coughs as he breathes. they've been invited by simon, and when simon invites someone somewhere he expects to be met. somehow its everything simon doesn't seem to be and yet he blends in perfectly and belongs and he raises his whiskey to his lips.

 

"this is it, boys," he tells them and he tips his glass towards them in a final toast. they sit in silence and old music plays quietly through the bar.

 

somehow it’s fitting that simon was the one who gave them their start and now he's the one that’s signing them off.

 

it reaches their ears slowly, muted and dulled by the cigar smoke that's wafting around them, denial cushioning the blow and it’s harry who finally breaks the silence and his voice cracks when he asks simon if its forever.

 

“i'm afraid so,” he tells them and he drains his glass, wipes his hands on his jeans and he stands up and he salutes them. shaking their hands, one by one, simon doesn't speak again until he says “well, goodbye” and then he walks out, his too-expensive shows clicking dully on the floor and harry knows as the door shuts behind him that they'll never see the man they once called uncle again.

 

(you just think happy thoughts)

 

~

 

cigar smoke burns his nostrils and he takes a gulp of the whiskey simon brought them to numb it. he doesn't realise his fingers are shaking until he nearly drops the glass on the bar. no one else has said a word and he waits for someone to say something. no one does.

 

he waits for liam to say something to cheer them up, waits for a comforting word or a kind hand on his shoulder and it doesn't come. of course it doesn’t come, because liam hasn’t been that liam in a long time. when he turns he can barely see the others through the smoke and it feels like they're miles away rather than a few feet. he blinks and his hands are numb and he feels woozy though he's barely drunk anything.

 

he waits for someone to cry, for someone to laugh, for someone to crack a joke or say something, anything, but a noise never comes. he waits for his cue, for someone to tell him how to react and no one says anything. maybe they’re all waiting.

 

because really, the past five years have been waiting. waiting for the judges, waiting for the camera crew, waiting for the results, waiting for the gigs, waiting for the reaction, waiting for the sales, waiting for the comments, waiting for the ticket sales, waiting for hair and make-up and harrys sick to death of waiting. but still he sits, and he waits.

 

(don’t you know what a kiss is?)

 

~

 

no one cries, no one falls to their knees and wails and begs and pleads. they sit in silence and smoke, lost in their thoughts and memories, and finally, finally, when harry is nearly sure that his blood is pumping pins and needles through his veins, niall speaks.

 

"we had a good run, boys," he says and his accent is thick and he picks up his whiskey and drains it in one, the good irish boy that he is. his words sit uneasily in the air and the tension swims as thick as cigar smoke between them all. harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat and thinks again that he should be more upset at the idea of one direction dissolving into nothing.

 

"don't," zayn says suddenly and it's a gunshot, harsh and sharp and cold, biting metal and freezing pain, and niall puts his glass down on the bar slightly too hard.

 

there is frost swirling between zayn and niall, the tension building and zayn's hands are clenched.

 

"no," liam speaks finally and he's pleading, begging, and even when he's obviously lost in his own head, lost in his own misery he's still taking care of them, still dodging the fight that could have broken out because zayn is staring shards of glass at niall and niall is staring back with ice in his eyes and they both seem to deflate when liam speaks.

 

zayn droops immediately, fight gone, and harry watches in awe and wonders what it is to love like that.

 

(there are many different kinds of bravery)

 

~

 

louis still hasn't spoken and when harry looks at him he's a million miles away, staring into the bottom of his tumbler like it holds the answers to the universe and harry can't bring himself to touch him.

 

zayn is staring down now, and harry sees niall’s fingers tremble before he clenches them into a fist. he sees the other boys and yet it’s like they're separate from him, like he's isolated in this bubble of detached numbness and cigar smoke. he blinks heavily, once, twice, and drains the rest of his liquor.

 

“well,” he says and he stands up because that was that and one direction was finished.

 

(put away many dreams)

 

~

 

louis hasn't moved and harry still says nothing, he stays standing behind his bar stool and he waits and finally louis puts down his whiskey, untouched and stands too. harry feels a rush of a strange, strong feeling and it nearly startles him out of the numbness because standing alone had felt bare and naked and like he was the only one ready to leave one direction behind. like the only one who was ready to give it all up.

 

niall stands too, flicking a look at zayn and Liam, who are both still hunched over. it's solemn and silent and they wait for liam and zayn to finish their goodbye.

 

(it’s all a bit tragic, really)

 

~

 

liam stands up, finally, and zayn sighs heavily before doing the same, one foot behind liam as he always had been and Harry wonders if he even realises he does it. wonders if he even knows how instantly and naturally his body aligns with Liam's. wonders if he even realises that liam will never see, not because he's blind but because he's still so, so in love with danielle.

 

zayns eyes are sad and mournful as they sweep the bar and lock with harrys for a second and he’s not mourning the end of one direction. he knows, harry realises. he knows everything and he still loves him anyway.

 

harry wonders again what it is to love like that and wonders if he’ll ever know. he won’t, he realises and somehow he can’t find it in him to care. hes numb, everywhere, and he can’t miss one direction or louis or any of them. it’s not the emotional end he thought it would be and all he wants to do is go home and sleep.

 

(do you tell stories?)

 

~

 

they leave the bar and no one notices them leaving, no paparazzi await them outside and none of them miss it.

they go home to empty houses and empty beds and maybe the loneliness is the only thing that makes them sad.

 

the bar becomes a graveyard, glasses of whiskey their tombstones and the old barman their only mourner.

 

(take care, lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe)

 


End file.
